


nothing left to say

by or-ng-c-ss-dy (o_r_ng_c_ss_dy)



Category: All Elite Wrestling
Genre: AEW Revolution (2021), Blood, Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Post-Match Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 09:47:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29931591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/o_r_ng_c_ss_dy/pseuds/or-ng-c-ss-dy
Summary: it took an ass kicking for chuck to realize it.or how miro of all people made them figure it out.
Relationships: Orange Cassidy/Chuck Taylor
Comments: 6
Kudos: 22





	nothing left to say

**Author's Note:**

> had to do it. i mean, like legally obligated to do it. all i'm saying is that we didn't see them post-match...could be canon.
> 
> my one t rated fic of the year, it had to be this one.
> 
> enjoy!

There was a stain on the mat under his head, red, drying brown quickly under the heat of the lights. An odd thing to have in a wrestling ring, a weird stain. His head was fogged up, why would someone put paint in a wrestling ring? Maybe it had happened in the women’s championship match, he hadn’t gotten a chance to watch it, he was too busy preparing for his tag match with Orange, against…

Oh. Right. That wasn’t paint. Miro, putting his head through a window, it wasn’t paint, it was his own blood.

His eye stung with it. Well, both eyes were stinging really, sweat and something else he didn’t want to mention, but the one eye was stinging in particular, his own blood. Chuck couldn’t think of any other time he’d bled for real in a ring, turned out that going head first through a window really made that dream a reality.

Or a nightmare. Whatever. Fuck, whatever. Every part of him hurt, and the crowd wasn’t even that hot for it but...well, he was used to that in a way. It was fitting in a way, Miro’s music playing high above their heads, flat on the mat and, shit, Orange…

Sluggishly, he turned his head over, blinking through the blood in his eye. He needed to see that Orange was alright, needed to make sure he was okay. That Miro wasn’t beating the shit out of him just for the hell of it, he’d tapped out already, the match was over. But he could hear Miro stomping around behind him, and Orange was there, exhausted, in pain, but...alright. He was okay, and Miro was leaving the ring so they’d be okay. 

He just needed to reach Orange. God, he looked so far away and exhausted, eyes drooping. He looked sad and in pain, and Chuck hated that. He never wanted to see that look on Orange’s face ever again, he was supposed to take care of him. It was his job, making sure Orange was okay, it had always been his job. Long before AEW or big pay-per-view matches, high school gyms and armory halls, he took care of him. 

He had to take care of him. Orange, laying there on the mat. Orange, napping in the back room of a VFW hall that they were using as a locker room, Chuck pulling his head onto his lap so he wouldn’t hurt his neck. Fingers stroking through his hair, trying to practice at being soft enough for him, rough fingers clawing to pull himself across the mat, lungs burning with it.

Chuck had fought tooth and nail to get Orange with him. He’d left him in the US when he was in Japan and he thought that he couldn’t do that again. Couldn’t have Orange be somewhere he wasn’t for another second. The Whatsapp calls hadn’t been enough, early morning when Orange had to go home to their empty apartment alone at night, nights out with Trent and the other Chaos guys, Orange waking up in an empty bed. Having to face the morning alone.

Orange there, alone on the mat, trying to climb into the ring. Trying to...trying to save him. He couldn’t leave him alone ever again, he had to take care of him. Pulling himself up, collapsing hard into the mat but at least it was progress. Painful progress, ragdolling his body across the mat, he’d do what he’d have to do to get there. To take care of Orange, make sure he was alright, that he wouldn’t be alone for long.

His eyes were still stinging, blood, sweat...he needed to get there. Orange was trying too, pulling himself up, hands reaching out. Their eyes met and he could see his pale eyebrows draw up, dark blue eyes searching over his face, a worried look on his usually neutral face. It made him feel real shitty, he’d worried Orange and that hurt worse than everything else. Worse than Miro throwing him through a window, beating the hell out of him, choking the hell out of him.

Miro knew that too. Knew that the real way to hurt him was to go through Orange. He hadn’t even met Miro before all of this, Miro didn’t know who either one of them were. He hadn’t been there in those armory halls and high school gyms and too-crowded bars, he hadn’t seen Chuck pull him down to rest his head on his lap, he hadn’t seen Chuck working himself crazy trying to get a call in before he passed out in a Japanese hotel room. Miro hadn’t been there, he didn’t know how much being able to tag together again meant to both of them, dark denim like how Orange wore so long ago.

He hadn’t seen any of that, ripping Chuck’s vest off of him, tossing it aside like it was garbage. But, still, he knew. He’d come in, taken one look at them, and knew the best way to hurt Chuck. 

Miro just...knew. The way his need radiated off of him in waves, he needed to take care of Orange. His greatest strength and greatest weakness, the soft parts of him. Pushing his hands through Orange’s hair, careful, trying to be soft for him. He’d always thought of himself as a little too rough for Orange, a strength and a weakness. Rough enough to make sure that no one hurt him, too rough for Orange to…

He shook his head of that thought, as if it might clear his brain like an Etch-A-Sketch. His rough hands were worth something for once, pulling himself across the ring, finally reaching Orange. Meeting him halfway, perhaps he hadn’t really gotten that far, eyes stinging from the blood and the sweat and the...the tears, sharp in his eyes, seeing Orange hurt. Chuck hauled himself up then, finally able to sit up, pulling Orange up with him. Pulling him into his arms, holding him close, Orange’s face tucked against his neck. 

Chuck’s hands slid up into his hair, cradling him, stroking through it slowly, carefully. A practiced softness. Taking care of him. He dropped a kiss to the top of his head, holding him carefully.

But Orange was slipping away, just a little but enough for Chuck to panic a little, his hand sliding out of sweaty blond hair. He never wanted to let Orange go when he had him like that, but Orange was pulling back to get a good look at him. Soft hands, actually soft, slid up then, cupping his face as Orange looked at him, dark blue meeting green in the middle. His face was unguarded and concerned, glasses knocked off long ago, nothing to stop Chuck from seeing the way he was looking at him.

It hadn’t felt right. Orange worrying about him like that. He wasn’t supposed to make Orange feel that way. But he had, Orange was there and he was worrying about him, had...had Orange worried like that in the past? That drawn up look on his face, hands cupping his chin, trying to see where the blood was coming from, had he worried Orange like this before?

In those too-crowded bars and armory halls, Whatsapp calls from the other side of the world, had Chuck not looked past his own nose to see it? That drawn up look on his face, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, waiting up for Chuck to call him, waking up early just to hear his voice. His mind showed him everything all at once, on the other side, seeing past his own selfish selflessness.

He’d worried Orange in the past. Waiting up by the phone, Japan and Reseda, waiting for his call. When he helped Orange back to motel rooms, Orange had been helping him too. Setting his head in his lap when Chuck was stressed, letting him soothe himself by stroking through blond hair. Letting him be soft. Like Orange was…

Like Orange was taking care of him. It all snapped together, all at once. Letting him take care of him was Orange’s version of taking care of him. Sure, it sucked that the realization came from that, Miro’s music still playing over their heads, it was going to be stuck in his brain for weeks but-- 

Well. Maybe it had to happen like that. 

His hands slipped up, gathering Orange’s wrists to pull his hands away, slipping up then to hold them in his. His hands were small and soft for real, nothing like Chuck’s big, rough ones. He didn’t have to practice being soft, he just...was. Chuck had to bring his hands up then, brushing his lips against the back of his knuckles, wincing at the sight of his own blood on Orange’s pale skin.

Orange didn’t seem to mind though, offering him a half smile through the worried look on his face.

“Are you alright?” Chuck had to ask then.

But the smile slipped off of Orange’s face, and he couldn’t help but feel like he’d fucked up again. Said the wrong thing, like always, always saying the wrong thing.

“Me? What about you?” Orange said, a little incredulous, a little squeaky.

“I’m fine, Orange. I…” he said, having to look away from Orange then, the look on his face, “that kick just looked like it hurt is all.”

“But you’re bleeding.” 

His hand slipped back over, thumb running over the bloody trail from his eye. Chuck wanted to brush his hand away but...the worried look on Orange’s face. He needed to...to let Orange be worried, if that was what he needed. Take care of him by letting Orange take care of him for once.

And his eyes were still stinging, with the blood and the sweat and the tears, pricking up, about to boil over from Orange’s hands, soft on his face. He’d let Orange take care of him for once.

“Sorry.” He said, for some reason.

But it made Orange smile that little half smile again. Miro had seen it without knowing anything about them, maybe it was time that he saw it too. It wasn’t the matching denim or the years they spent together on the Indies, that wasn’t why he wanted to take care of Orange...why he was going to let Orange take care of him in return.

He wanted to take care of Orange because he wanted _him_. Miro had seen it from the moment he’d laid eyes on them, and it was time that he saw it too.

No one was looking at them, too focused on Miro making his exit, but every camera on the planet could be on them and he’d still have to do it. Chuck leaned in then, saw his moment and had to take it, had to take care of Orange in a different way. Reassure him in ways that words couldn’t, closing that last bit of distance between them.

He’d never been very good at talking. Neither had Orange, something wrong with both of them. But words couldn’t have ever been enough, not for this. Not after what they’d been through, not after what they’d stick together through regardless.

Maybe he should’ve done it a long time ago, or somewhere a little more private, but no one was watching as he kissed Orange right there, not quite in the center of the ring but close enough, close enough to when he should’ve kissed him for the first time.

He kept it light...soft, there still were people that were probably watching them, they were going to end up in the dirt sheets for sure, and he had the taste of his own blood in his mouth, he didn’t want to make Orange taste too much of it, he’d probably had enough from the blood on his lips. And Orange was meeting him with it, sighing sweetly into his mouth, little hands slipping up into his hair, soft without having to practice.

Chuck had clawed his way over to Orange, through the pain and the exhaustion, through the possibility that Miro could’ve come back to stop him. But he’d made it and Orange was in his arms, it had just felt right to kiss him, lips moving slowly together, not aimless, just...light. It felt like just another part of taking care of him, the logical next step.

And, in a way, it was Orange taking care of him as well. Like he always had. They took care of each other.

Yeah, they had lost but...well, they used to lose together all the time. It hadn’t ever been the end of the world back then and, as Miro’s music finally shut off, it wasn’t the end of the world now. They’d get through it like they always had.

Together.

Orange broke the kiss after a little while, foreheads tilted together, a smile on his lips. He was bloody then too, Chuck’s blood on his mouth, but...he didn’t seem to mind.

“C’mon. We gotta go.” He said, grinning despite his usual demeanor.

And Chuck had to grin in return, helping Orange up to unsteady feet. If he wasn’t hurt himself, he’d carry Orange to the back like old times. But he let him lean against him instead, arm circling around his shoulders, tucking him under his arm. He fit perfectly there, an arm winding around Chuck’s waist.

“Eager for more, huh?”

“Shut up,” he said, still smiling, blushing a little, “gotta get you checked out.”

They helped each other to the tunnel. Together, as they always were, as they always would be. Orange tilted his head back against Chuck’s shoulder, pausing just as they reached the back, medical starting to swarm them. Chuck tightened his hold on Orange, he wasn’t going to let them pull them away from each other, not even to check them out separately. They’d do it together.

Orange sat there at his side as they cleaned up his cuts, small hand sliding down into Chuck’s bigger one. Taking care of him, squeezing his hand, letting Chuck squeeze his in return without having to worry about being soft. Letting Chuck know that he could take it, take every part of him, even the parts that wouldn’t smooth out no matter how hard he tried.

He winced as they cleaned up the larger one over his eye, the stuff they were using stinging the cut. Orange frowned then, pulling his hand up, brushing his lips over his knuckles...it felt good. Letting Orange take care of him.

As he laced their fingers together, Chuck thought that maybe he was going to have to let him do it more often.

He thought about telling Orange that he was too good to him. It felt right, it felt like something he might say. And it was true, Orange was more than he ever deserved. Always had been, armory halls and high school gyms, back when he was a hell of a lot worse, when Orange was the only person he’d been nice to. Waiting up for his calls, Japan, Reseda, and _”call me when you win”_ , he really was a lot more than he deserved.

But, as right as it felt, it wouldn’t feel right to say it out loud. So maybe it wasn’t true at all...maybe he did deserve Orange. As crazy as it felt to think, maybe...maybe they’d earned the right to take care of each other. Clawing his way over the mat, clawing their way up to where they were, taking Orange in his arms, Orange taking his hand in his. Kissing him right there in the middle of the ring, it had all felt right.

The doctor was talking to him then, watching Orange for concussion symptoms, like he knew that they were going to be together all night. Like he knew that Chuck took care of him, like how Miro had known at first glance. He knew because it came off of Chuck in waves, his desire, everyone could see it as clear as day…

Or maybe he’d just saw him kiss Orange right there, not quite in the middle of the ring.

Maybe he was more obvious than he’d realized. But maybe he was ready to be seen like that, maybe he was ready to let everyone know that they took care of each other.

Orange was his and...and he was Orange’s. And he thought that it was about time that he’d made it clear to everyone, himself and Orange included.

So he tucked Orange under his arm and pressed a soft kiss to his temple, nodding at the doctor.

“I’ll take care of him,” he said, and then, “I always do.”

Clawing his way across the mat, Japan, Reseda, Jacksonville, that had all been hard. The distance between them. But he’d done it, he’d made his way across the mat, through all of those places, gathered Orange up in his arms and...somehow, it had just been easy after that. He’d kissed him and it was...it was easy all of a sudden. Being with Orange was easy. Neither of them had to go anywhere ever again.

As weird as it was, he figured that he owed Miro some thanks for it. For looking at them and seeing it right away without knowing any of their history, without knowing why the shade of the denim they both wore mattered, he just looked at them and knew. Knowing that they wanted each other.

He wasn’t going to go and thank Miro of course, mainly because he was pretty sure he’d still knock his head clean off of his body. But, still. It had taken that last stretch of mat between them for Chuck to figure out what he wanted...and that it was okay to want him. That it was okay for Orange to take care of him, that Orange had taken care of him the whole time.

So, as he walked away from medical with Orange tucked under his arm, he figured that the least he could do was give Miro some credit.

He probably would’ve figured it out on his own eventually, but, hey, maybe he did need to get knocked upside the head to figure it all out. And, yeah, he was going to need to say something eventually, a kiss wasn’t a replacement for what they actually needed to figure out. But, for now, he figured that they were on the same page.

Talking could come later. For now, they just needed to take care of each other.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading, i hope you enjoyed it! you can find me on tumblr, @ [ or-ng-c-ss-dy ](https://or-ng-c-ss-dy.tumblr.com/).


End file.
